7. Grandma's Snow Play

My first memory of playing in the snow I was very young. My excitement was contagious. My great-grandmother was my caretaker as a child. She was happy to see how excited I was about the snow falling, but that was were her excitement ended. I was around three or four years old and very anxious to be outside playing in the beautiful playground being created in right before my very eyes. I imagined tasting the small, white crystals, wondering if they tasted like the clouds. I expected to make giant snowmen and throw a few snowballs carefully rounded with my gloved hands. I was very eager to lie on my back in the snow and spread my arms and legs just like I had watched children do on television.
All of plans changed when my grandmother explained to me that we could not go outside. Instead, she explained, we were going to bring the snow into us. The thought of bringing all the snow into our house was an appealing idea. I ran out of the room and grabbed my coat from the closet. I began to wonder what Grandma was going to use to get all of the snow in the house, and where she was going to put it. She called for me to come back to the kitchen explaining I would not need my coat. Suddenly I was confused again, but I obeyed her. Quickly I threw my coat on my bed and raced down the hall back to the kitchen. When I got there I found Grandma at the back door.
Grandma told me to get in my mother’s kitchen cabinets and get a few of her pots. I did and handed them to her. Then, she told me to get a few spoons out of the drawer. I asked what we were doing, I thought she was crazy. This would take all night bringing in the snow with spoons, and we needed something bigger than my mother’s pan to hold the snow. My Grandmother explained to me then that we would pretend to cook, using the snow, when it melted we would pour the water in the sink and get new. I began to think of different things we could pretend to make. Mashed potatoes were all I could think of at the time and I began to get disappointed I wanted to make snowmen, and angels, and snowballs. My grandmother was patient and explained we would, and we did I played in the snow until my fingers ached from the coldness. We sat at the kitchen table for what seemed all night making miniature angels and snowmen. I made giant snowballs. We cooked many dishes that night and we ate each one.
When my children were very young I did as my Grandmother did. We enjoyed the snow from the inside, staying warm. We were able to use our imaginations together and come up with all kinds of things to do with the snow. While playing with them I would tell them of my Grandmother and how she had done the same thing with me as a child.

6. If Something is Going to Change Your Life, Let It

When he asked me what else I did I wasn’t exactly sure what he was referring to. I was confused by his question and I am sure the look on my face said it all.
“This is it.” I replied very quickly. I was not sure if this conversation was one I wanted to venture off into. Generally, while working at a truck stop fuel desk many of the truck drivers will talk to you about anything. They have been on the road for hours or days, and some drivers have been on the road for years with no family to go home to. Regular drivers feel a sense of belonging when they stop at the same place to fuel when passing through. Their routine suddenly involves you, and they want to talk. So I was not shocked by the personal question. Some of the men could be very blatant, as if their intent was to see if they could embarrass you. Some of the girls that I worked with enjoyed flirting with them. However, I was careful to not let conversations get out of line, so I proceeded with caution.
His eyes seemed to pierce through me, but only for a moment. His gaze lowered to the change I had placed in his hand from his purchase. As he shoved the coins in his pocket he began telling me about the Ivy Tech College campus in our town. I listened to the information he offered me about the new location. I had not realized there was an Ivy Tech in town. He opened the bottle of soda he purchased, and took a swing, raised the bottle to me, as if in a toast, and said “You know you could be so much more.”
“I have been thinking about going for a long time,” I said as I watched him walk out into the parking lot.
Those hollow, unmotivated words had been my response for the past ten years when I was approached about going to college. I was not lying, I had thought about going to college since I had graduated high school. That was as far as I got. I never did anything other than think about it. This time, and I do not know why, a complete stranger impacted me with words I had heard over and over by my family. I knew that I could do more in life than be a fuel attendant in a truck stop. I had made very good grades in school, but I had lacked the confidence in myself enough to enroll in college. I heard him saying, “You know you can be so much more,” over and over in my mind. I became excited at the thought of acting on the thought of going to school, enough that I began to make phone calls inquiring on the process I would need to follow to enroll. I began my first semester at Ivy tech in January of this year, approximately three weeks after his motivating words. I have three children and I am thirty one years old. I am changing the course of my life. To the Holland driver out of Illinois, thank you.

My First Puppy

When I was younger my sisters and I wanted a puppy really bad. I remember bugging our parents almost every time we even saw a dog. My dad always said no because we didn't have time for a new puppy. I think m y mom was sort of on my sisters and my side. She loved animals as much as us. Even with our begging and pleading it didn't seem like my dad was ever going to give in to us. One day he surprised us all and gave in to our whining.
In the fourth grade my dad finally let us get a dog. It was a warm, summer day in the middle of July. My dad came home from work with an Indianapolis Star newspaper. I heard him as my mom if she wanted to buy a dog. Of course my mom said yes because she knew how badly we wanted one. There was an add in the paper for AKC registered golden retriever pups. My dad called on them and they were three hundred and fifty dollars. From my bedroom I heard him getting directions and telling the people selling the pups that we would be there in about two hours.
The ride there seemed like forever. We, at the time lived in Indianapolis and we had to drive all the way to Seymore, Indiana. Seymore was about two hours away. My sisters and I kept asking if we were almost there probably every fifteen minutes. I’m sure my parents wanted to scream.
Finally we pulled up to a long , gravel driveway and started our way down it. I was so excited that we were finally there. I could see the puppies from the car window. A lady came walking out to meet us and let us in the kennel so that we could pick out our new family member.
My dad told us he didn't care which one we chose as long as it was a boy. We chose the biggest pup of the litter. He was a rambunctious little guy. He chased us back to the car and my sister picked him up and sat him on her lap. All of us wee fighting about who got to hold him on the way home. My mom got mad and made us give him to her so that they didn't have to listen to us fight the whole two hours home.

change is good

I can't quite recall the very first time I colored my hair; I have colored it so many times that the natural color is unknown. Often times when people change their looks it can cause them to change their personalities and attitudes. I love to change my hair and appearance. I know from experience that if you feel good, and you look good, then you will have a good day. When I change my hair I do it because I like it. I always ask for and appreciate my friend’s and family’s opinion, but in the end it is my hair, and I will wear it anyway I like. I love to make changes. A lot of people are afraid of change, and I have to admit that it does frighten me at times, but anything worth doing means taking a risk. I read a book entitled “Who Moved My Cheese?” by Spencer Johnson. The book is a story of two “little people” and two mice trapped in a maze. In the story they are on a search for cheese, the cheese represents something other than cheese, like moving to a new house, getting a new job, or something that you want in your life. In the story cheese is placed in the maze everyday for the foursome. For days that is their food supply, but then one day the cheese is gone. This causes the need for change. The mice don’t dwell on the loss; they just go in search for more cheese. The “little people” freak out and don’t know what to do about their supply. The mice find a new supply of cheese and continue to live carefree. The “little people” were afraid to change and move their location. After starving for the cheese, one of the “little people” decided to look for some new cheese. The other “little person” stayed and was never heard from again. The book doesn’t imply if he died of starvation or what. The moral of the story is that people have to change in order to survive. Nothing is the same day in and day out. That is how I try to think about change. At first it may be uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but in the end it helps the person to grow.

5. A trip to jail

I could see the bouncing of the blue and red lights bouncing in the reflection of the glass. I felt the pressure of his hand on the back of my head as he guided me into the patrol car. As we began the journey across town, my mind became numb to the process I was about to endure. Frustrated at the feelings I was having, I wished I had never gone out drinking. Now I was going to jail and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all.
I heard the garage door opening. The patrol car slowed and we coasted inside. After stopping the car, the officer walked around to me and opened my door quickly. Then he ushered me to the booking room. I looked around at the barren building. There were no windows to look through. Nothing was hung on the walls, except two posters about drunk driving and the effects of drug use. The walls were dingy and yellowed. I was instructed to sit on a bench that was bolted to the floor. I was ready to get the process started. I knew once I was booked in they would remove the handcuffs. I began to get impatient and started tapping my feet loudly on the floor. I asked the officer when I would get a phone call and he only responded with a sneer. I mumbled snide remarks under my breath, then I began to think of all the problems I was going to have from getting arrested for drunk driving.
The officer instructed me to stand with my feet on the black line of tape stuck to the floor in front of a camera to get my picture taken. While IO was standing there, he took of my handcuffs. I rubbed the impression on my wrists the handcuffs had left. He informed me I was going to have to have a strip search, but we would have to wait until a female officer was available to do it. Moments later she arrived. She took me into a small room and instructed me to take off all of my clothes so she could check for any contraband (drugs or weapons) that I was not allowed to have in the jail. I believe this was the most degrading part of being arrested. It only took about five minutes for it to be done, but it felt like an eternity.
After putting on the jail issued jumpsuit I was ushered into a cell where I immediately noticed a payphone on the wall. I sure glad to see it. I immediately picked up the receiver and called a good friend explaining what had happened. She reassured me she was on her way to bond me out. I was thankful when I got home and swore to never drink and drive again.

Remembering My First Snow Blog 6

The first time it snowed; well from I can remember I must have been four or five years of age. It was Christmas Eve of 1992. We had a huge family dinner that night and as we were driving I started noticing huge bright white flakes hitting the windshield of my dad's truck. I felt like I was at the North Pole, the snow was shimmering and I just could not help but just stare at the snow. It was so amazing to watch it fall from the sky. As soon as we arrived at our destination, my dad showed me how to make snow angels. It was the best feeling ever, just laying there in the soft coolness of the snow. I soon began rolling the powdered snow into a ball and then it turned into a huge snowman. We must have spent two hours playing in the snow building that snowman. I took my bright pink scarf that was my favorite and gently wrapped it around the neck of my snowman. I used the two chocolate chip cookies that I had been saving in my pocket as the eyes of him. Just as I was admiring him in the moonlight of the night, a familiar voice starting ringing in my ears. It was my grandma shouting for us to come in and warm up by the fire. It was dinner time. I remember eating as fast as I could almost inhaling my food, just so I could run back outside! Soon after dinner, I road a sled for the very first time. I felt so refreshing to have the freezing cold snow tickled my nose as I slide down the huge hill. It seemed to take only just a little push from my dad to send me gliding through the snow at a tremendously fast pace. I can stil remember how free and alive I felt at that moment. I think my dad and I must have spent at least 4 hours that night out in the snow. For the first time I had completely forgotten about the beautifully wrapped presents underneath the garland lined Christmas Tree. I felt like Santa had given me the best present a little girl could ask for that Christmas Eve. This will stay engraved in my mind for the rest of my days, and when I have children I am going to spend another 4 hours in the snow with them.

memories of my nana II

That night we got a call that she had died. I will never forgive myself for not going to see her one last time. I felt so selfish because I wanted to go to my friends instead of visiting the only grand parent that has ever been there for me. Now she is gone and there isn’t anything that I can do about it. The thought of never seeing her again as well as going to her funeral terrified me.
Nana’s showing wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I didn’t cry too much. The fact that she was dead didn’t seem to be real yet. I also had been expecting her to die for a while. Her death wasn’t out of the blue, but she had been dying for quite some time. Me knowing that she was going to die made it a little more bearable. Although I knew this would be the last time I saw her, I didn’t want to go up to her coffin.
The walk up to her coffin seemed so long. My younger sisters and I walked up together. By this point I was crying. We got up to the side of her coffin and saw my Nana lying in the casket as if she was sleeping. She had on her favorite baby blue dress that her and I had picked out years before. It was her favorite dress, and she always told everyone that when she died that is the dress she wanted to be buried in. I touched her hand and kissed her forehead. She was extremely cold. She felt fake. She wasn’t warm and welcoming like she had once been. Seeing her made me realize that she is dead and isn’t coming back. This would be the last time I would ever see her. Once she was buried the only thing I would be able to see would be her headstone.
The drive to the cemetery was a quite ride. No one in the car said a word. I was remembering all the memories my Nana and I had shared. When I was a little kid I would spend the night with her at least once a month. At night her and I would go to her friend Ruth’s apartment to visit . Ruth always had a full candy dish. I would always eat her candy. The next morning we would get up early and go eat donuts in the main lobby. Nana had a lot of friends at her apartment complex. Everyone that lived there were old because it was a retirement complex. After we ate our donuts we would walk to the bus stop and wait for it to pick us up. We always rode the bus to go shopping. Nana loved to shop. I began to cry more because I was never going to get to spend the night with Nana ever again. We had finally arrived at the cemetery.
There was a big, black cast iron fence that surrounded the cemetery. All the headstones were flat. I remember asking my mom why all of them looked like that. She told me it was because that was the only kind that was aloud there. We drove around a black top circle and came to a stop.
The area where Nana was going to be buried was pretty. She was going to be laid to rest next to her husband. There were angel statues with a bench in between them next to her grave plot. It was a pretty spot. There were two great big trees shading the bench. It was time to go under the green tent and say our final good-byes to Nana.
The preacher began the ceremony with a prayer. I bowed my head with tears running down my cheek and listened to the prayer. When the preacher quit talking we each grabbed a flower to place on top of her casket. I chose a pink rose. After that her casket began to be lower into the ground. I walked away and sat in the car. I knew life was never going be the same because my Nana was gone.